


See You at the Dam

by Feeshies



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Onesided Ship...?, This is mine, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Tension and Stargazing, We're all allowed one trash ship, among others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feeshies/pseuds/Feeshies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Otho originally thought that Stella was some cocky and ruthless fighter.  Stella originally thought Otho was some sexist jerk.</p><p>They're both right.</p><p>But not a lot of people at the Fort want to talk to them, so they're stuck with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Otho's knuckles scraped uncomfortably against the arena wall as he struggled to scrub the dried blood caked on. Left over from one of the ranger's previous matches, of course. Stella in her infinite strength and deadliness had a knack for making her fights the most difficult to clean up afterwards. Just to spite him, he was certain.

“You look like you're having fun.”

Speak of the devil. Stella leaned against the arena entryway, her arms crossed and her face barely attempting to hide her smirk. It was almost like she forgot which one of them was the prisoner.

He got up to his feet, rubbing the tension out of his aching hands.

“In the future, could you try not wiping off your bloody hands against the arena? It's a bitch to clean.”

Stella's eyebrow rose further. “You clean the arena yourself?”

“It's my arena.” Otho placed one of his hands on the corroding metal walls. “It's my duty to keep it running.”

“Ah, duty?” She almost sneered in response. “Well it's my 'duty' to fight in the arena, so as far as I'm concerned workplace cleanliness is not important.”

Otho decided that it would be best to not even humor her with a response. It seemed that she always won verbal battles as well.

“So…” Stella tapped her fingers against the corroded metal walls. “Now what?”

He looked up from his cleaning for a split second. “What do you mean, now what?”

“I have no one to fight and you're preoccupied. What do I do now?”

Otho wiped the sweat from his brow. “I don't know. You can start by making yourself useful around here.”

“You really trust me that much?” She broke into another smirk. “You want me rubbing my womanly hands all over your precious arena.”

“Don't talk like you don't do that already.” He scoffed and scrubbed away at one of the caked-on blood stains. “Just stay here so I can make sure you don't rip someone’s face off.”

“You know I wouldn't do that.” Stella crossed her arms. “I'd aim for the jugular.”

“Yes.” Otho gestured with his bloodied rag. “I know.”

“I guess I could stay here and keep you company.”

“If that's what keeps you out of trouble, fine.”

“You missed a spot.”

“I'm starting to rethink this arrangement.”


	2. Chapter 2

“All right, listen up.” Otho marched back and forth in front of the row of young legionaries. He didn’t know why the Fort had a large number of children to train when the higher-ups should be focusing on the war effort, but at least it gave him something to do when he wasn’t working on the arena. “Your instructors put me in charge for the rest of the evening, but that doesn’t mean I’m your caretaker. If I catch any of you misbehaving, even once, I’m throwing you to the hounds. Got that?”

The kids who were used to Legion discipline nodded and replied with a confident “yes sir!” while the new additions looked like they were trembling in their ill-fitted boots. Otho had more in common with the latter group when he was their age, as much as it ashamed him to realize that.

Stella peered at them from behind the arena wall and Otho waved her over.

“Now, what I’m about to teach you is super important.” He placed his hands on her muscular upper arms and positioned her so she was standing directly in front of him. She didn’t get into any sort of fighting stance, but then again it seemed like she was always in one. “This is a simple takedown move. Aim for the base of the throat, then push inwards then down. It will be easier to force your enemy to the ground if he is unable to breathe. Observe.”

Otho moved in just to demonstrate the stance with Stella, but in a split second the wind was knocked out of him and before he knew it he was lying on the ground. He coughed furiously and he could see Stella turn towards the children.

“See? Like that.” Stella grinned and offered him a hand, but he didn’t take it.

“You weren't supposed to actually do it. I was on the offence.”

“Lesson number 2.” Stella glanced over at him and smirked. “Follow your opponent’s eyes, not their weapon. That way you can predict what’s going to happen next and you can act accordingly.”

He still had to rub the throbbing pain out of his throat. “You know I wasn’t actually going to hit you.”

“Lesson number 3: don’t listen to anything the enemy says to you. Don’t give in to their manipulation.”

Otho pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, let’s move onto something else.” Great, this woman was going to humiliate him in front of a bunch of children. But he still had to go through with the training. “We’ll get back to takedowns later. For now, I’ll show you the most effective places to strike your opponent. I’ll start with the abdomen.”

He planned on lightly grazing her solar plexus so the kids got a basic idea of the move and stance, but Stella immediately moved to the side, twisting her arm around his, then flipping him over her shoulder before slamming him onto the dry earth.

The corners of his vision darkened and a strangled gasp escaped his throat. This time he accepted Stella’s hand when she offered to help him back up because he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Lesson 4.” Stella looped Otho’s arm over her shoulder while he regained his balance. “Don’t announce your next move to your enemy.”

Through his still blurry vision, he heard one of the children try to cover up his snickering.

“You there.” He unwound his arm from around Stella’s shoulders. “Is something funny to you?”

“Uh, no sir…”

“‘Uh, no sir’?” Otho repeated, closing in on the young legionary. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“Yes, sir.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean, no sir. I--”

“Enough.” Otho held his hand up and the child fell silent. “I will not hear another word. It’s clear you don’t take your role as a legionary seriously.”

“No, sir, I just--”

“I said that’s enough.” He scanned the crowd before pointing to another trainee. “You two. In the arena. Let’s see how much you were paying attention to today’s lesson.”

A wave of fear washed over the crowd as the children were forced into a stunned silence, their eyes frantically darting between the man in front of them and the arena behind him.

Stella’s smirk vanished off of her features and she stepped forward, lightly tapping Otho on the upper arm.

“Whoa, you’re not going to make them kill each other. This is just training, right?”

“All arena matches are to the death.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You should know that more than anyone.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Yeah, but they’re children!”

“They’re children second, legionaries first.”

“They’re still too young to be forced into death matches!” Stella furiously rubbed her forehead. “I can’t believe I actually have to argue this. They’re kids!”

“Stella, I was six when the Legion took…” He paused. “...When I became a legionary. I was nine when I made my first kill. I’m here today because I was strong enough to survive. Many of my fellow legionaries didn’t, because they were weak. That’s how the Legion works. That’s how life works.”

Stella crossed her arms. “I didn’t get involved with the NCR until I was sixteen, but I still kicked your ass today.”

Otho didn’t bother to respond.

“Let’s see how well your system works.” She moved so she was standing between Otho and the children, who were looking up at her with dumbfounded expressions. “Instead of making the kids fight, face me in the arena.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you defending them? When they grow up, they’ll be your enemy.”

“But at least they’ll be allowed to grow up.”

Otho met Stella’s unwavering glare, before turning away and sighing.

“I’m ending training early today.” He rubbed the back of his sunburnt neck. “In the meantime, I want you to pick up every piece of trash around the Fort before nightfall.”

The children ran off without a second question. A few gave hasty salutes, but most were gone in a cloud of dust.

* * *

 

Stella looked out over the evening sky as she waited for her anger to die down.

As much as she hated her situation, at least the sunsets were pretty; easily the second best thing about the Fort. The normally brown and rust-colored base seemed much more alive with the shades of gold and orange bouncing off of it. All of the brilliant lights coming from the west-where her home was. She wondered if the sunsets still looked the same over there.

Stella walked over to Otho, who was leaning against the arena wall with his head in his hand.

“Six-years-old, huh?” The ranger stared out over the horizon.

“I’m not going to talk about it.” Otho’s voice was more quiet than usual.

She sighed and pushed her tangled hair behind her ears. In a sense, she almost felt bad for him. Almost. It was hard to push the previous training incident out of her mind.

Soon the sun was completely behind the mountains and Stella got to see the first best thing about the Fort: the stars. They didn’t shine this way back in California, or even at her camp. These stars could have blocked out the light from New Vegas with how bright they were. It was like looking at those old prewar star charts back home.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Otho’s voice would have startled her if it wasn’t so soft. “The stars, I mean.”

Stella cleared her throat. “Yeah, a lot nicer than back home. The lights from the city blocks them out so you can’t see them.”

“Really?” He didn’t take his eyes off of the night sky. “I can’t imagine wanting to live in those profligate cities.”

“It’s not that bad.” She shrugged. “They’re loud and busy, but they have an energy and a spirit that’s hard to replicate.”

Otho cracked a small smile. “You still can’t see the stars.”

“Some people don’t care. Or maybe they don’t know.”

Another moment of silence passed between them, but Stella somehow managed to feel more at peace. There was something about the inky black sky that could help her forget where she was. Like it was easier to block her surroundings out when they were shrouded in darkness. Once again, Otho broke the silence.

“Listen, Stella…” He rubbed his temples as he looked down at the ground. “About that incident during training…”

“It’s fine.” She shook her head. “I mean, it’s not fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it.”

“I don’t make the rules, Stella.” He kept his gaze downwards, seemingly unable to make eye contact with her. “This is just how it works.”

“I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

More silence, but this time Stella didn’t feel at ease. The darkness felt suffocating and uncomfortable like an itchy blanket. Even the stars seemed to hang heavy above her head. Another night under those stars meant another night at the Fort. Another night as a prisoner.

“I just have a question.” Otho was finally able to meet her eyes. Even with the lack of light, Stella could make out how worn-down he looked. His dark eyes looked heavy and sleep-deprived against his gaunt features. “If the NCR doesn’t discipline the trainees the same way we do, how do you keep them fighting? How do you keep them in line.”

It was way too late for her to be thinking about that sort of thing.

“I know many of the other soldiers were fighting for different reasons. Obviously I care about the Republic, but mostly I fought for the people who were fighting with me. I was willing to kill for the NCR as a principle. But my fellow soldiers?” She instinctively grasped at her chest searching for her dogtags, only to find nothing. “I’d die for them.”

Stella didn’t know how Otho would respond. Fortunately he didn’t. But in their silence, Stella finally noticed how close he was sitting to her. He was still a couple feet away, but it felt odd trying to relax when the enemy was sitting right there. Otho was easy to ignore when he wasn’t talking, so she turned her attention back to the night sky.

“You look at the stars too?” Otho’s voice was hesitant, like he was just dipping his toe into the conversation.

“Yeah, a lot.” She looked over towards him. “You?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged and tugged at the front of his armor. “There isn’t a lot to do out here.”

Stella couldn’t stop the smirk creeping on her face. “I would not have expected you to be the stargazing type.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, I can’t imagine how someone could not be fascinated by them.” She reclined against the arena wall. “Like, do you ever stop and think about how these are the same stars the people before the war used to look at too?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She twiddled her thumbs together anxiously. “Well I think it’s interesting. These giant balls of gas millions of lightyears away have overlooked so much history.”

Beside her, Otho sat up straighter and his eyes widened.

“Wait, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“That thing you just said.” Otho’s voice became more and more frantic. “About the stars and what they’re made out of.”

“Yeah, Stars are mostly made up of really hot hydrogen and helium.”

“And...light years?”

“That’s just a unit of measurement used when calculating crazy huge distances. A lightyear is…” Stella squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to conjure those long-forgotten memories of science class back into her brain. “...six trillion miles, or something like that? I think that’s rounded up.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. So, what does the Legion tell you about space?”

“The Legion never mentioned anything about that.” Otho looked like he was shaking a little bit. “Everything I know about the stars came from my tribe…”

Something sparked within her and she sat up with an enthusiasm she hadn’t felt since her capture.

“That means I can teach you! Or at least dump all this trivia I have on you. Either way.” She looked back up at the sky and motioned for Otho to do the same. “You see that strip of bright cloudy stuff?”

“I think so…” Otho’s voice kept getting harder and harder to detect as he trailed off.

“Well, it’s actually one of the arms of the Milky Way Galaxy.”

Otho gave her an odd look. “Arms?”

“Not an actual arm. Here.” Beneath the light of the torches, Stella drew a circle in the dirt. “A galaxy is a collection of stars and other celestial bodies that makes up the universe.”

Otho stared at the drawing with wide eyes as Stella began adding wispy lines branching out of the circle. It certainly wasn’t a pretty drawing, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances.

“The galaxy we’re in is called the Milky Way and that cloudy stripe in the sky is one of its arms.”

“Is that where we are?” Otho pointed a shaking finger at the center of the drawing.

Stella shook her head.

“I think we’d be...here.” Stella pointed at one of the branches. “We’d be one of these grains of sand right here. And even then that’s just our solar system.”

Otho didn’t look as thrilled with astronomy as she was.

“So if the sun and our solar system is just a tiny speck in our galaxy, and our galaxy is one of billions in the universe, it kinda puts things into perspective.” Stella wiped her drawing away and leaned back against the arena wall. “It gets me through the day.”

Otho didn’t respond so she looked over at him. His eyes were wide and his skin was pale. When she looked closer, she swore she saw him visibly shaking.

“My tribe was wrong…” He whispered. “They were wrong.”

Stella felt like she just swallowed a neutron star. This wasn’t the first time she subjected someone to her long-winded space rambles, but usually people just got bored and walked away.

“Oh my god, no that’s not what I…”

“Of course I always knew they were wrong about everything else.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “I just thought that our...that their beliefs were different.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re wrong!” Stella held her hand out towards the night sky. “We can both have our interpretations and they can both be right.”

“How? How can they both be right?”

“I don’t know, but I think science and mythology can coexist.”

_“Mythology?”_

“Okay, okay, bad phrasing. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right, it does put the profligates’ mindsets into perspective.” He locked his eyes on the patch of sand where her drawing once was. “As a legionary, I’m considered a barbarian who forces children to fight. As a tribal, I’m a savage who doesn’t know what the things they worship are even made out of.”

“Otho…” Stella tried to summon the right words to say, but nothing felt right. How was she even supposed to feel? He was a legionary, but he was coming off as being more human than anyone she’d seen at the Fort.

He let out a weary sigh. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with being a savage barbarian. I mean, I’m good at it.”

Stella just nodded, still unsure about what to say.

“But, it was nice hearing you talk about something that you like.” Otho turned his face away from her. “You seemed like a different person.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You really shouldn’t encourage me to talk about space.”

“It’s still a lot to wrap my head around, but after being assigned to the same post for years, it’s nice to hear something different.”

“Well, after being trapped here, it’s nice to be able to actually talk to someone.”

Otho gave a small smile. “So you don’t mind if I ask you a question?”

“We’ll see. What is it?”

He looked back up at the night sky. “Sometimes I’ll see stars move through the sky, almost like a bullet. Why does that actually happen?”

A smile tugged at Stella’s lips, but she found it in herself to hold her ramble inside. Perhaps she still had a chance to repair the damage from before.

“I’d much rather hear what your tribe thought it was.”

Otho scoffed. “It’s probably wrong.”

“That doesn’t matter. Any science book can tell you what I think. I won’t be able to hear your perspective anywhere else.”

“I’d tell you, but it’s a love story. Unfortunately most of my tribe’s stories are like that.” He sighed. “What do you expect from a tribe run by women.”

Stella rolled her eyes. Typical Otho.

“Besides, I really shouldn’t be talking about my old tribe.” Otho stood back up and brushed the sand off of his uniform. “We’re not supposed to hold onto these things.”

Stella remained seated on the ground.

“I hope you know I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about your beliefs.” She began to lazily draw swirls in the dirt. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. My tribe doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

Otho was a horrible liar, but Stella figured it was best just to go along with it.

“I just get really excited about space.”

Otho rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, your name actually means--”

“Yes, I know.” Her words came out sharper than she intended.

“Was that intent--”

“It’s a coincidence.” Stella couldn’t help her delivery from being wooden due to the countless times she had to answer this. “I like space because it’s cool and my name just so happens to mean star. They’re not connected.”

They stood there in silence for a moment. Stella wondered if Otho was ever going to go to sleep. He continued to stand next to her in silence, staring up at the sky above them.

“Stella?” Otho spoke up without tearing his gaze away from the stars.

“Yes?”

“Earlier, you said that thinking about how small we are in the universe helps you get through the day.” His finger picked at the rust lining the arena wall. “What did you mean by that? The idea of being small and insignificant doesn’t feel calming.”

“It...it’s hard to explain. I guess I like the idea that no matter what happens here, the universe is still going to do its thing. What happens out there is going to happen whether we win the war or not, whether the Republic expands or not, because what happens out there is much bigger compared to all of this.” Stella ran her hand across the sand beside her. “I’m trapped here, but the earth beneath me is still moving.”

Otho sat back down next to her. “You’re pretty insightful for a profligate woman.”

Stella rolled her eyes so hard she thought she would go blind.

“Has anyone told you how charming you are? Because they’d be wrong.”

“What? It’s a compliment.”

Stella just sighed and shook her head. “You’re beyond frustrating.”

“But I meant it.”

“I know.” She yawned and leaned back against the metal wall. “That what makes you frustrating.”


	3. Chapter 3

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and after that Stella didn’t bother to keep track of the time she spent at the Fort. It was clear that no one was coming to rescue her. And why would they? One ranger wasn’t worth breaking into the enemy’s main base for. She wasn’t too torn up about it. Her role as an arena fighter allowed her to kill more legionaries as a prisoner than she ever did out on the field. She liked to think that her legion kill-count was higher than anyone else’s in the NCR. That should be worth a medal of some kind when she got back.

 _If_ she got back. She couldn’t allow herself to get too optimistic.

Stella situated herself near the arena entrance, the slim shadow from the metal walls providing minimal protection against the Arizona sun. Even though she was no longer wearing her bulky ranger armor, the heat was still unbearable. She glanced over at Otho who was drinking water out of a steel thermos. She certainly did not envy him for having to wear that ridiculous armor. It always looked like he was going to pass out any minute. She tried using her classic nuclear winter joke with him a few times, but he never seemed to get it.

“I won’t be training the children anymore.” Otho spoke up, staring into his thermos. “The other instructors thought that I was unfit.”

“Because you _didn’t_ make them fight to the death in the arena?”

He rubbed his brow. “No, I’m just unfit for the job. It’s been years since I’ve been in any sort of commander position.”

“You’re more likable when you’re standing in front of the arena anyway.”

“...thanks?”

Stella still didn’t know what to think of Otho. On one end, it was nice having someone to talk to so she wouldn’t completely lose her mind. But it wasn’t like he was the most open-minded person to hold a conversation with. It took weeks before she got him to stop saying “for a woman” whenever he complimented her on her combat abilities, so maybe that was progress. Either way, she figured there were worse men in the legion she could be forced to work for. At least she was able to get him to listen to her space rambles.

She was thrown out of her thoughts when she detected a familiar scent. A scent that catapulted her back to being at Camp Charlie early in the morning and watching the sun rise over the mountains. A scent she never thought she would encounter in a Legion base.

“Is that...coffee?”

Otho glanced back and forth between her and his thermos before nodding.

Stella furrowed her brows. “You’re drinking coffee? It’s like a hundred degrees out here.”

He shrugged. “I need it if I’m going to get through guard duty tonight.”

“You know caffeine's a drug, right?” She crossed her arms. “Isn’t that banned in the Legion?”

“Listen, Stella…” Otho sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Caffeine’s sort of in a gray area. Most men in the Legion don’t know if it has any drug-like properties. And they can’t know, understand? I need this.”

“Sounds like chemical dependence to me.”

“Call it what you want, just not in front of the others.”

“Hmm. She leaned against the arena wall. “Let me have some of it and I won’t tell the authorities about your addiction.”

Otho looked at her in shock. “What?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had a good cup of coffee?”

He stared at her for a solid minute, before letting out a sigh of defeat and handing her the thermos.

“Here. Take the rest. I’ll make more.”

Stella snatched the thermos from his hand without a second thought. It tasted more watery than she was used to having back at camp, but she figured Otho had to reserve how much of the coffee he used. She wanted to down the whole thing right there, but she tried to pace herself to avoid getting sick. It was like for the first time since her capture, she was allowed a little taste of her old life. Her real life.

Through the corner of her eye, she caught Otho staring at her. She pulled away from the rim of the thermos and wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand.

“What is it?”

Otho turned away, looking a bit flustered. “Nothing.”

At the sight of a soldier approaching the arena, Stella screwed the cap back on and gave the thermos back to Otho. Even after all this time, part of her still felt a bit jumpy when she saw someone in the enemy’s uniform walk towards her.

“I saw the woman’s previous fight.” The legionary made eye contact with Otho, barely even acknowledging that the ranger existed. He seemed to be of a lower rank than Otho, but definitely not a trainee. “It seems unusual for a woman to have that kind of luck in the arena.”

“I was surprised too.” Otho just picked at his gloves, only passively engaging in the conversation. “But you know what they say about the NCR rangers.”

“You’re letting her win, aren’t you?!” The legionary’s voice almost cracked. “I know you’re rigging the fights!”

Otho’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to him. “Tell me, how do you think I can rig the fights?”

“I see you two talking, you’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Stella sighed. “If you’re so convinced, why don’t you go to the authorities? You’re wasting everyone’s time confronting us.”

He ignored her. She wasn’t surprised.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” Otho’s voice was steady, but obviously laced with venomous anger. “When you come here and make these accusations, you are not only disrespecting me, Stella, and the arena, but you are disrespecting the lives of the legionaries who lost to her.”

“Yes, but…”

“Do you think those men just carelessly threw their lives away? No. They fought with everything they had, but they were still defeated by the ranger.” He folded his hands behind his back. “They fought with honor, something you’re clearly lacking.”

The legionary’s face was nearly red. “But you know what Caesar says about women fighting…”

“Yes, but Caesar made an exception for Stella. And even though she’s a woman, she’s one of the most incredible fighter’s I’ve seen since the Legate himself.” He stepped back towards the arena entrance. “If you doubt her abilities, you’re welcome to face her.”

Stella briefly uncrossed her arms to beckon the soldier over.

The legionary looked too enraged to even respond properly.

“If your answer is no,” Otho leaned back against the wall. “I suggest you stop wasting my time.”

After a few seconds of silent fuming, the legionary stormed off.

Stella stared down at her scarred hands. She almost couldn’t believe what just happened. While she always knew that Otho was defensive of his job, she never expected him to defend _her_ that way.

The two locked eyes as Otho leaned back against the arena wall. He sighed and waved his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. I get complaints like those all the time.”

He passed the thermos to her again.

“I still think I should fight him.” She unscrewed the lid and finished off the rest of the coffee. “Whether it's in the arena or not, I can take him down.”

“Stella, you don't understand.” Otho sighed and rubbed his forehead. “When you're in the arena, the men fear you. Because it's equal. But out here?” He gestured to the rest of the Fort grounds. “You're still just a woman to them.”

Stella sighed and stared down at the ground.

“What am I to you?”

“Huh?”

“You said the men here either fear me or disrespect me.” She glanced over at him. “So how about you?”

“Well…” He drummed his fingers against the arena wall. “What do you think?”

“I asked you.”

Otho let out an almost nervous-sounding laugh, which surprised her. She was so used to seeing him in control.

“I did give you my coffee.”

“Because you fear me?”

“Let's just say I don't disrespect you.”

Stella turned the thermos over in her hands. The chipped metal burned against the rough skin on her hands. Otho kept his eyes fixated on one of the outer posts.

“So this kind of thing happens often?”

Otho shrugged. “Often enough that it doesn’t bother me anymore. Usually it’s because someone lost a bet, but I can’t imagine why anyone would bet against you given your track record.”

He gave her a small smile and despite everything, she found herself smiling too.


	4. Chapter 4

Stella winced as Siri, the Fort healer, popped her shoulder back into place.

“How do you feel?” Even though her procedures were often painful (due to the Legion’s ban on almost all forms of medicine), Siri always had this timid demeanor about her.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” Stella experimentally moved her shoulder around. Still sore, but nowhere near as bad as before. “Thanks a bunch.”

“You really should be more careful.”

“Careful isn’t exactly an option in the arena, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Siri’s hands twisted together in her lap. “How many more of those fights can you take?”

Stella shrugged, but the sharp pain in her shoulder told her that wasn’t a good idea.

“As many as they throw at me.”

Siri shook her head and sighed. “I swear you sound just like one of the soldiers.”

“Well, I am a soldier.”

“You know what I mean.” She handed her a small burlap bag. “Here’s some healing powder. It should help with the pain.”

“Seriously?” Stella wrinkled her nose. “Again? This stuff is nasty.”

Siri crossed her arms. “Will you keep doing this every time I heal you?”

“Until the Legion lets me mix the powder with scotch, yes. Yes I will.”

It was rare that Stella got a chance to sit down and talk with someone who was in a similar situation as her. Ever since she sat down with Siri the first time, she had a question she desperately wanted to ask. But it was a question she worried she would regret asking.

“Siri?” Stella glanced to the side. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How long have you been here?”

Siri’s brow wrinkled in deep concentration. The longer she took to answer, the more worried Stella got.

“Three years.” The words left Siri’s mouth with a sigh. “Three and counting.”

“Has…” Stella’s voice trembled. “Has anyone ever escaped?”

“No one who lived to talk about it.” Siri slumped her shoulders. “It’s...best to abandon any fantasies about leaving. They will only bring you down.”

Stella was shivering beneath the blistering heat in the tent. Her throat was as dry as the cracked earth beneath her feet. The sharp pain in her shoulder seemed to be masked by the pain she felt in her mind.

“Oh my god.” Stella held her head in her hand. “I’m going to die here.”

“The sooner you accept that, the easier it gets.”

Stella thanked Siri and tried to navigate her way out of the tent, but her mind was spinning and her ears were ringing. Even though she was a legion prisoner for months, the thought never fully manifested itself before that moment.

She was going to die there.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

 

Grave-digging was as taxing as Otho’s job got, but at least it gave him something to do.

The bodies had to be buried as far away from the Fort as possible, so Otho had to go trekking into the desert with a shovel over his shoulder and a cart carrying bodies dragging behind him. Often times whenever he went out there, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the stars. He tried to. It felt so silly for someone who was a legionary for 30 years to hold onto his original tribal beliefs. But some of his old culture refused to leave.

When he reached the location of the mass grave, Otho pierced the earth with his shovel and began digging. After a few hours of digging, he dumped the bodies into the hole. This part of the job always felt strange. The legion believed in the god Mars and they even had priestesses back home, so why was this burial always secular? Shortly before burying the bodies, Otho stared up at the stars and muttered a small prayer. A tribal prayer, but a prayer nonetheless. Then the bodies were buried and Otho returned to the Fort.

Otho’s arms were sore and his legs were aching. The shovel dragged uselessly behind him without the strength to lift it. When the guards let him through the outer gates, he came to the horrible realization that he forgot to properly clean the arena. The work never ended.

As he got closer to the arena, he could hear some kind of shuffling from within. He peered over the wall and through the limited light from the torches, he could just make out the shape of Stella scrubbing at the floor with a wet rag.

“Stella?” Otho squinted his eyes and stepped into the arena.

“Oh, hey.” Stella set her rag down, her scrubbing reduced most of the ground in front of her to a messy bloody puddle.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Otho rested the shovel against the wall.

“Well, you were gone and this place was starting to smell kinda gross. It's not like I had anything else to do.” She twisted the brown rag in her hands and sighed. “Also I didn’t know how else to thank you. For defending me earlier.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you’re welcome. And thank you, I guess.”

“I just can’t get these stupid bloodstains out.” Stella grunted as she furiously tried to rub the blood away.

“Stop. You're making a bigger mess.” Otho knelt down next to her and pushed some of the dirt over the puddle. “If you dry up the stains, it’s easier to sweep up. You’re just making mud.”

“Oh.” She stopped scrubbing while Otho cleaned up the rest of the stain. “How did I not think of that?”

“I’ll take care of the cleaning. You need your rest.”

Stella handed him the bloodied rag. “Are you sure? You look exhausted.”

Otho shook his head. “This shouldn’t take long. You helped out a lot.”

“Oh, thanks.” Stella stepped back so he could resume cleaning. “I don’t mind staying out here.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “You sure?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Why not? It’s a nice night.”

“That it is.”

“Otho?”

“Hmm?”

Stella glanced over at the shovel. “When you bury the fighters, do you, you know, do anything? Or do you just dump them in a hole and leave?”

Otho’s gaze returned to the stars. “I say a few words before I bury them.”

“What kind of words?” Stella’s voice sounded softer than usual, it was strange.

The rag trembled in Otho’s hands. “Just some small prayers from...from my tribe. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I remember them more than any Legion religious rituals.”

Stella was silent for an eerily long time. The moon and the stars above them outlined her features in an otherworldly glow. When she finally spoke up, her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t pick up on it.

“Otho?”

“Yes?”

Stella took a deep breath. “When I die here, I want you to bury me as close to the west as you can get.”

Otho stopped and looked at her. Stella was slumped against the arena wall with her head hung low, cradling her forearms.

“Why do you think you’re going to die here?”

“Because I’m being realistic.” She closed her eyes. “I’m going to die away from home, trapped in an enemy base.”

Otho felt a knot rising in his throat. As a legionary he had to be used to hearing about death, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right when it came from her. In the arena, Stella looked like the most lively person he knew. Her ruthlessness, her skill, that half-smile she gave after finishing her opponent off, how strangely good her messy brown hair looked when it mixed with the blood of her enemies. The idea of losing that spark forever…

He nodded, his grip tightening around the rag.

“I...I’ll do what I can.”

Otho looked up at the stars once more. This time when he recited the prayer in his head, it felt more like a curse.


	5. Chapter 5

“Why do you want me to follow you again?” Otho tried to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes as he trailed after Stella. The setting sun reflected off of the clear water of the Colorado River and a cool autumn breeze whipped past them. The weather was much more tolerable in the evening, but Otho was too exhausted to notice.

Stella stepped carefully around the slippery rocks on the shore of the river.

“It’s been forever since I had a proper bath. I dragged you here because you’re the only one I trust to keep watch.”

“You trust me?” Otho sat down on a nearby boulder as Stella carefully dipped her toe into the water.

“I mean, who else am I going to ask?” She gave him a sidelong smile. “Mind turning around now?”

“What? Why?”

Stella rolled her eyes and tugged at the collar of her rags.

“Oh, right.” Otho moved to turn around before a thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute, how do I know I can trust _you_?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, how do I know you won’t swim away?”

“Wow, you caught me.” Stella put her hands up. “My brilliant escape plan was to swim across the Colorado River buck naked and unarmed, to the _other_ Legion encampment over there.”

“Okay...but you could always knock me out when I’m not looking and take my armor.”

“Hey even if I was plotting my escape, I can assure you that my plan wouldn’t involve stripping you.” She kicked at the water that was lapping at her ankles. “Also here’s the thing about being one of the few women on this base: I’m kind of recognizable.”

“What if you tried to…”

“Otho.” Stella interrupted him and he immediately fell silent. “Maybe I just feel sweaty and gross and I just want to take a bath. So you should turn around and stop giving me ideas.”

“I...ugh, fine.”

Otho sighed and turned around, focusing his eyes on the rest of the camp. He heard the slight rustle of Stella dropping her clothes on the ground beside him. His face became hot and it felt like the collar of his uniform was choking him. The more he tried to tune out the splashing sounds behind him, the more they drove him crazy. Probably just sleep deprivation.

“This is nice.” Stella sighed wistfully behind him.

“Yep.” Otho strained to keep his eyes on the camp. She was probably going to knock him out anyway. That's why he was so nervous.

A few minutes went by and Stella was eerily silent. Otho struggled to resist the urge to turn around. What if she was injured? What if she actually did swim away? Just a quick look to assess the situation.

Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. Stella was still standing there unharmed, but he caught a slight glance of her muscular form before she pulled her rags back on. He found himself staring for a few more seconds before he realized Stella was staring right back.

“I knew it.”

Otho quickly turned back around.

“It was quiet. I wanted to make sure you weren’t drowning or something.”

“If I somehow manage to drown in three feet of barely-moving river water, I say you just let it happen.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Otho closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “You can continue.”

He could hear the barely-muffled sounds of Stella snickering, but he knew better than to investigate.

In less than a second, Stella grabbed the back of his uniform and pulled him into the water, eliciting an embarrassing yelp from him.

Otho leaned against the riverbed as he struggled to catch his breath. The water was so much colder than he expected.

“Mature.” He took a minute to remove his shoulder armor and the other heavy parts of his uniform. He was lucky he didn’t impale himself on one of the nails.

“Hey, you spend your days either standing out in the sun or hanging around dead people.” She playfully flicked water at his face. “You need this just as much as I do.”

“Did you have to pull me in with my clothes on?”

“As I said: I’m not stripping you.” She folded her arms. “Anyway, follow me. There’s something you gotta see.”

Otho was hesitant at first, but he slowly paddled after her. This had to be some sort of trick. It had to. Why was he stupid enough to actually follow her?

Stella came to a stop and placed her hand on Otho’s shoulder, moving him so they were both facing the Fort.

“You see that really bright star in the sky?”

Otho squinted his eyes and after some scanning he did see a very bright star near the moon.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“But you see, it’s not a star. It’s Venus.” Stella grinned. “You can’t really see it from the shore.”

Otho kept staring at the strange object. He couldn’t figure out what made this “Venus” different from a star.

“So what does it...do?”

“Uh, well...it’s a planet. Like earth, but not able to support life. At least I don’t think so, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms.” She gestured towards the planet. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah.” Often times Otho had difficulty following her astronomy monologues, but her enthusiasm continued to be a welcome surprise.

“Actually it’s not cool because Venus is the hottest planet in our solar system.”

Stella laughed, so Otho figured he should try to do so as well.

“So you pulled me in here to show me a hot space rock?”

Stella slumped her shoulders. “I think it’s more than a hot space rock…”

Otho paled. “No, I mean...it is nice-looking, I guess.”

“It’s the brightest thing in our sky right now.” Stella leaned back in the water so she could float along its surface. “Even back in the city, I could still see Venus through the lights.”

“You miss your home…” Otho spoke without even realizing it at first. “Don’t you?”

“Well, how could I not?” Her face looked solemn for a split-second before transforming into a sidelong smile. “But I pulled you in here so I could show you a neat space thing, not so you could try to feel sorry for me.”

“Right.” Not that she would have to try. “Sorry.”

“What did I just say?”

The sun was almost completely behind the mountains, leaving Stella as a silhouette floating in the water. Even through the darkness, he could see her dark eyes, her tangled brown hair, her smirk Otho hoped she would never lose no matter how long she was forced to stay at the Fort. It was a coping mechanism, everything she did seemed to be one.

The sarcasm, the joking, this night in the river looking at the planet. The only time he felt like she truly let her walls down around him was when she was talking about her death the night before. He wished that wasn’t what it took, but part of him wished she would never let her walls down. It would be better for everyone that way.

“Hey, you okay?”

Otho rubbed his eyes. “Just tired.”

“Yeah, it is pretty late.” Stella began making her way to the shore. “But we should dry off first.”

Otho followed her out of the river and knelt down on one of the boulders. His armor was soaking wet and he had no means of drying himself off. He removed his shirt to wring out the excess water while Stella stared at him.

“What?” He slipped his shirt back over his head.

“Looks like we’re even now.” She said with a grin before lying down on her back.

“It may take a few days for my armor to dry completely.” He laid down next to her folded his hands across his chest. “But I probably needed that.”

“I figured.” Stella yawned and rested her arms behind her head. “You do seem to have the most boring job in the Legion. When you’re not getting to see me fight, of course.”

“I used to do even more stupid stuff like that when I was younger.” Otho gave a slight laugh. “My superiors hated me.”

“No way.” Stella sat up. “You? You’re like the most tight-ass guy I know.”

“Good. I worked hard to reinvent myself.” He smiled as he stared up at the stars. “Like this one time when I was on a scouting mission, I tried to wrestle a night stalker.”

“What?” Stella laughed and Otho felt his chest tighten. “Did you do it?”

“You tell me.” Otho pushed his wrist guard down, revealing a faint bite mark along his inner forearm. “I could have kept it in my grasp if my friend didn’t threaten to tell our centurion. I panicked and let go. Maybe one of the stupidest things I’ve done.”

“What did you think would happen?” She laughed again. “I mean, what was your plan after you grabbed it?”

“Honestly, I still have no idea. Probably just carry it back to camp to show everyone how cool I was.”

“You really didn’t think that through.”

“It was one of the stupidest things I’ve done.”

“Hey, we all have moments like those.” Stella rolled onto her back, her expression turning into a sad smile. “Did I ever tell you that I grew up on a bighorner farm?”

“I don’t believe so. Was that the stupidest thing you've ever done?”

“No, well not really. When I was fifteen…” Stella had to stop to cover her face. “Oh my god this is so embarrassing. I thought I could impress this guy by jumping from the roof of the barn and onto one of the bighorner’s backs.”

“As a man, I can tell you that is the most sensible way to get our attention.”

“Thank you. Finally someone gets me.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “And, I did it. I landed perfectly on the bighorner, but it turns out that bighorners don’t like being jumped on. This thing went on a rampage through the farm trying to throw me off while I desperately clung on for dear life. Then I get thrown off it’s back and bam!” Stella slammed her fist into her open palm. “I fall face-first into a pile of bighorner droppings.”

Otho laughed. “We really shouldn’t be around animals.”

“Oh, I was cleaning the gutters for a month after that.” She smiled at him.

“Any luck with the man?”

Stella scoffed and waved her hand. “Nah, he was probably intimidated by my incredible bighorner-riding skills. But yeah, that’s one of the dumbest things I’ve done.”

“His loss, I guess.”

Stella gave him an odd look and Otho felt a wave of shame wash over him, as if she was a high-ranking officer he disobeyed and not a prisoner.

“Yeah.” She turned her attention back to the river. “His loss.”

Otho rubbed the back of his head. “Do you think of your home a lot?”

“Yeah…” She stared at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the stars. “I know I shouldn’t be thinking of home, but sometimes it helps.”

“I know what you mean.”

“To think, if I just stayed on that farm instead of joining the NCR I could have avoided all of this.” She forced a small laugh. “Do you think about that too?”

Otho frowned. “Do I think about what?”

“Your home.” Stella tugged at her water-logged hair. “Like, before the Legion. You’ve talked about your tribe before.”

Otho felt a chill run up his spine. He closed his eyes.

“No, I mean…” He rubbed his eyes. “Sometimes. I really shouldn’t. The Legion doesn’t want us talking about our pasts.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” She rolled over onto her side. “But if the only reason you don’t want to talk is because Caesar tells you not to…”

“It’s not…” Otho let out a weary sigh. “What could would talking about it do? It’s over. They’re gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Stella’s voice softened. “I shouldn’t pry. I guess I’m just curious to about what kind of person you were before the Legion.”

“Well if you must know, I was a child.” He smiled. “And I was as far from a legionary as you could get.”

Stella smiled back at him. “I said you don’t have to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but you wore me down.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I remember the cave we lived in was covered wall-to-wall in these paintings which represented the history of our tribe or something. One time, my mother let me make one. I don’t know why, I wasn’t really good at anything. When I was done, I knew that my painting was the ugliest thing in existence. But my mother didn’t see that.”

He could feel his own voice cracking. “She only saw the best in me.”

Stella didn’t respond, honestly Otho didn’t know how he expected her to. When a cool night wind blew past his face, he came to the horrifying discovery that his face was wet with tears.

Otho scrambled to his feet.

“This was a mistake.” His armor was still damp and he slid a bit on the rocks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Otho?” Stella stood up too, albeit a little more gracefully than he did. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m fine.”

“If you want to talk, I…”

“Stella, I think we’ve established that talking about my tribe does more harm than good.”

She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, then bowed her head.

“...I’m sorry.”

Otho felt an aching in his chest as he turned away from her.

“Goodnight, Stella.”


	6. Chapter 6

Stella’s grip tightened around the metal thermos in her hand, which felt nearly as warm as her face did. Obviously just the sun. The guilt from the previous night by the river continued to gnaw at her, but why? He was a legionary, she shouldn’t give a damn how he feels.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible for Otho’s episode the other night, Legion or not. It was obvious that she accidentally opened something deeply repressed.

Turning into the arena, Stella saw Otho kneeling on the floor and scrubbing away at one of the metal walls. The area he was cleaning didn't appear to have any visible stains, but Otho seemed out of it. His eyes were mostly closed and his movements were sluggish. Stella watched him for a moment, wondering whether or not she should bother him. With a sigh, she stepped closer and placed the thermos down near him.

Otho jolted as if he was asleep and stared up at her.

“What's this for?”

Stella shrugged and tugged at her collar.

“You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Otho was quiet and Stella held her breath as she waited for a response. After what felt like eons, Otho reached for the thermos as if he was reaching for a live grenade.

“Thank you.” He kept his gaze focused on the thermos in his hands. “But you don't have to feel sorry for me.”

Stella frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You know about…” His grip tightened around the thermos. “...where I come from. And I made the mistake of letting myself look vulnerable around you. But I’m still a soldier so I expect to be treated with respect.”

Stella thought back to the previous night. It was surreal seeing Otho cry. She was used to seeing him stressed or bored so seeing him project any other emotion was strange.

“We can forget about last night if that’s what you want. I don’t mind.” She leaned back against the arena wall. “But for what it’s worth, I think I respect you more now.”

Otho looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Why?”

“You talk to me like I’m a person. The fact that you even shared that with me makes me think that you don’t view me just as property like other legionaries do.” Stella shrugged. “Unless I’m reading too much into it.”

She glanced down at Otho when he took a while to respond. His head was hung low as he studied the thermos being turned around furiously in his trembling hands.

“Maybe.” His voice was soft and hesitant. “But is that really a good thing?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his face with one of his dust-covered hands. “But out here, you can’t let yourself start to care for someone. It’s dangerous.”

His comment caught Stella off guard. She felt her stomach tie into knots and her heartbeat quicken. She probably made her coffee too strong.

“You care for me?”

Otho kept sinking further from her. “I was speaking hypothetically.”

“Right, sure.” Stella rolled her eyes for show, but the slight trace of a smile slipped past her features. “Well if I’m so dangerous, maybe I should leave you alone.”

“I mean, you don’t have to do that…” Otho rubbed the back of his neck as he averted his gaze from her. “You can stay here while I clean and tell me when I miss a spot, or whatever.”

Stella smirked and leaned back against the arena wall, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“Now _that_ I can do.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

He turned away from her and resumed his cleaning. Stella remained standing near the arena entrance, watching him as he scrubbed the blood and dirt caked onto the walls.

“Otho?”

The legionary looked over his shoulder at her.

“Yes?”

“Nice work.”

Otho gave a smile that almost looked bashful, before quickly returning to his cleaning.

Stella was certain the tingling feeling in her chest was from dehydration.


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks passed and Stella only continued to amaze Otho. In the arena, that is.

But as the day of the battle loomed closer, less people wanted to risk throwing their lives away facing her. Otho didn’t know when the battle was, no one of his rank did. But everyone could feel it. The Fort was quiet, which Otho normally would have appreciated, but it was a tense kind of quiet. No one spoke unless they absolutely had to. Soldiers ran from post to post or practiced furiously in the training field. Meanwhile, Otho sat at one of the benches outside his tent as he worked on preparing the afternoon’s arena matches.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t want to fight at the dam.” Otho scribbled a note down next to the soldier’s name.

“What’s up?” Stella sat down next to him and glanced over his shoulder. Otho didn’t mind. He even poured some coffee into the thermos lid for her as if out of instinct.

“Some poor fool wants to face you in the arena.” He tapped his pen against his clipboard. “Just a foot soldier.”

“Is that so?” She drank some of her coffee. “You really don’t have faith in your men.”

“Any man who faces you is either in over his head, or has a death wish.”

Stella gave a small laugh. “Yeah, but who knows how long I can keep that up.”

Despite her tone, Otho felt his spirits drop. She was right. He managed to tear his gaze away from her smile and focused on her hands. Those hands took so many lives in the arena, but they looked destroyed. Her knuckles were damaged and bruised. He noticed the way she flinched when she wrapped her fingers around the thermos lid. Her toned arms were covered in scars from being cut with machetes. When she walked, her left leg dragged slightly behind her. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue. But in the arena, that detail would cost her both her victory--and her life.

“Hey, Otho?” Stella waved her hand in front of his face, forcing him to get a good look at her scars. “You okay there?”

Otho blinked before rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, just stressed. The battle and all.” He looked back down at his notes. At least she was just facing against a lower-ranked legionary that day. She’ll be fine.

* * *

 

Stella was never dreaded the fights. She dreaded the aftermath.

She dreaded the feeling of her joints aching the next morning. She dreaded forcing herself to walk without limping despite the massive pain in her leg. She dreaded having to choke down bitter-tasting healing powder in lieu of proper medical treatment. She dreaded having to break her nose back into place, having to comb the caked-in blood out of her hair, having to constantly clean sand out of her open wounds. She dreaded having to resume keeping up an air of confidence so she felt like she still had a sense of self.

It only took a quick glance at her next opponent for Stella to know that she could wipe the floor with him. But then what?

“Otho?” Stella kept her eyes focused on the ground as they walked towards the arena. “How much longer do I have to do this?”

“Oh, uh…” His voice trailed off the way it always did when he was caught off guard. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

Stella nodded and kept walking. How much longer could she do this? It was made painfully clear that the NCR wasn’t coming for her. There was only one way out.

Her stomach twisted into several knots and she was overwhelmed with an immense feeling of dread.

* * *

 

The heavy arena door slammed shut and locked into place. Otho moved to his usual viewing post near the western wall. Most soldiers didn’t have time to watch the arena matches due to the war effort, but fights with Stella usually drew in a decent crowd. Although, Otho had no idea why anyone would bother watching this one. The ranger’s opponent was easily half a foot shorter than her. It looked like she had more strength in one finger than he did in his whole body. This would be a quick one.

Otho signaled for the fight to begin and the two sprang into action.

It was always mesmerizing watching Stella fight. The way she moved, the way she would strike her enemies. The way she fought looked effortless, but brutal.

This was not one of those fights.

After he gave the signal and the soldier lunged forward before Stella had time to react, slicing her across the upper arm. Otho flinched as if he felt it too.

Stella stumbled back and tried to throw a punch, but the challenger evaded her before striking her in the face with the hilt of his machete. She was dazed, blood was dripping from her arm and her nose.

Otho gripped the metal arena supports so tightly that he swore he was going to crush them. He knew he shouldn’t be rooting against his own men, but he didn’t care. All he wanted to see was for her to simply wipe the blood from her face and destroy her opponent with ease.

Another slice from the machete, this time across her side. Stella’s knees shook, her skin was pale. The legionary moved in, jamming his thumb into the base of her throat. She was forced to the ground in a violent fit of coughing.

Otho could feel his heart pounding and his whole body shaking. There had to be something he could do to stop the fight. If the soldier was breaking any of the arena rules, he could bring the match to a halt and run in. He could take Stella to the medic and he would never have to whisper that prayer to her.

Unfortunately, the soldier was following all the rules. Stella was still on the ground bleeding profusely when he approached, bloodied machete in hand as he prepared to make the finishing blow. Otho’s blood ran cold.

But then a familiar spark reappeared in Stella’s eyes. In a split second, she swiped her leg and sent him toppling to the ground. His machete clattered away but Stella grabbed it and plunged it into his heart. The soldier let out a sickening gurgling noise and Stella collapsed against the arena wall, unable to stand.

Otho didn’t bother looking composed. He threw the arena door open and raced inside. Normally he was careful when it came to examining the defeated fighter’s vitals, but he didn’t care. He briefly scanned the soldier’s body before pulling the machete out and tossing it to the side.

“The ranger is victorious!”

And with that he ran over to Stella and knelt down in front of her. Her skin was pale and her breathing was ragged. Otho’s arms shook as he reached out and picked her up as gently as he could.

“You’ll be okay.” Otho grunted, apparently the ranger was heavier than he thought. “I’m taking you to Siri now. You’ll be okay.”

Stella lolled her head back against his shoulder, but he could feel her nod against him. Otho tightened his arms around her and began walking faster. This was just after fighting some foot soldier. What was he going to do if she had to fight a centurion?

Otho looked down at her face as he hurried his way across the Fort grounds and he knew there was only one thing he could do.

He had to get her out of there.


	8. Chapter 8

Stella was used to the ever-present aching in her knees and her hands from the arena, but that it was nothing compared to the pain she felt when she woke up. Her whole brain was throbbing. Her vision was blurred. Her side stung from the recent machete wound, which was probably infected already. Siri stood above her. Stella expected to see her, but she certainly didn’t expect to see Otho race over to the side of her cot.

“How are you feeling?” His tone was rushed and anxious, his eyes were visibly worried.

“I…” Stella’s voice creaked as she tried to force out a response, only to give up when the pain in her head grew stronger.

Siri placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t push yourself. It may take a while for you to recover.”

Stella wanted to ask _“do I even have a while?”_ but she couldn’t find the words or the strength, so she just nodded.

“Sir,” Siri removed her hand from her shoulder and bowed her head. “May I have a word with you?”

Otho nodded and the two moved to the far corner of the tent. They kept their voices low so Stella couldn’t hear a word they were saying, so she squinted her eyes so she could watch them carefully. Siri kept her eyes focused on the floor as she spoke. After a while, Otho looked like he was zapped with electricity. He sat down with his head in his hands. Stella felt a chill rush up her spine.

The two continued talking for a few moments before Otho rushed out of the tent. Stella could feel a lump form in her throat as he left. She was dying, there was no denying that. She thought he would at least stick around.

Siri walked back over to her, visibly shaken. When she opened her mouth to speak, Stella interrupted her.

“It’s fine.” She let out a few dry coughs. “I’m not making it out of this one, I know.”

To her surprise, Siri shook her head.

“No...I mean that’s what I was going to say.” The medic tugged at her rags nervously. “But you can be saved if I can properly clean and suture your wounds. Some stimpaks wouldn't hurt either.”

Stella scoffed. “Stitches and stims, great. Good luck doing that here.”

“It’s true that the Legion bans most forms of medicine.” Siri glanced at the tent entrance for a second. “But it seems that Otho knows where they stash a lot of their banned items. That’s where he went.”

Stella’s eyes widened. Otho was relatively kind to her before, but she never thought he would turn his back on Legion law for her.

“But...if he gets caught…”

“They'll kill him. If he’s lucky.”

Stella felt her mouth go dry. Up until that point, all of the kindness Otho showed her felt like it was either out of loneliness, possible deep-rooted guilt, or even minor manipulation. But this, this was too much.

“But…” She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to piece the words together. “But what about you? Won’t you get in trouble for doing this?”

“I don’t think so.” Siri looked down at her shaking hands. “Otho insisted that if we’re caught, he’ll make it sound like he forced me to do it. That way, he’ll take most of the punishment.”

Stella was reduced down to a stunned silence.

The tent flap was pulled open and Otho came rushing in. Looking over his shoulder, he placed a small bundle of cloth down on the cot.

“Here.” Otho took a moment to catch his breath. “I hope these match your description.”

Siri unfolded the cloth, revealing a couple of stimpaks, and gave a sigh of relief.

“This is perfect. Thank you, sir.”

Otho stepped over to Stella’s side and she glanced up at him with a questioning look.

“Why…?”

He shook his head. “Just focus on getting better, okay?”

Stella frowned, but she nodded and let her head fall flat against the cot.

“The medicine will help you heal, but I’m afraid they won’t do much about the pain.” Siri spoke up as she prepared to suture the nasty wound on Stella’s side. “I can numb the area a little bit, but there isn’t much I can do beyond that.”

“I’ve had worse.” She waved her hand. “Just do it.”

The stims were rejected and Stella could already feel her body rapidly mending itself. She let out a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. After months of being deprived of it, the benefits of modern medicine felt so good.

Then Siri started stitching her up.

Stella jolted when the needle first pierced her flesh and let out a sharp gasp.

“You’re going to have to stay still for this.” Siri tried again, only for Stella to move out of reflex. “Sir, would you mind holding her still?”

Otho somehow looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt, but he nodded. Stella could feel his calloused palms shaking as he held her hips down against the cot.

The needle pierced her flesh again and she squeezed her eyes shut. It didn’t feel like the stimpak or even the machete. Siri’s movements were slow and calculated. She could feel every agonizing second of the needle being pushed through the damaged tissue. Her eyes were blurry when she opened them, but she could make out the vague shape of Otho’s worried face.

“Are you sure this is helping her…?” He spoke up hesitantly.

“It won’t be pleasant,” Siri whispered back. “But this will help.”

Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes as she felt the thread being dragged through her and soon they began to flow harder. Stella didn’t cry when the Legion slaughtered her camp. She didn’t cry when she was captured. She didn’t cry after her brutal matches. She did a good job keeping that in check. But for some reason, her walls kept chipping away with each pass of the needle. It was like she was making up for lost time.

Her sweaty palms were trembling as she reached out for Otho’s, who was still holding her against the cot. His hand flinched at the contact, but he allowed her to hold onto him. It felt good having something there to ground her. She let out a shaky breath and prepared for the next set of stitches. The needle came back and she squeezed his hand as hard as she could.

“Augh!” He cringed and cursed through his teeth, but he didn’t let go.

Stella still couldn’t think straight, but there was something oddly satisfying about that.

Siri finished the sutures a few minutes later and worked on disinfecting the wound. The medicine stung, but it wasn’t nearly as painful. Stella still squeezed Otho’s hand, mainly because his reactions amused her.

The bandages were applied and Siri stepped back. Stella took a series of deep breaths as she tried to set her mind back on track. A wave of exhaustion washed over her heavy eyelids. She could barely hear what Otho and Siri were saying to each other as she drifted into unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

Otho shuddered as he drizzled cold water over his aching hand. Siri said nothing was broken, but the skin was badly bruised.

Stella was lying on the floor of his tent with only a couple of blankets cushioning her from the rough ground. He had no reason to complain about his situation. Profligate medicine was still a mystery to him, but that didn’t look advanced at all. It seemed like an awful lot of stabbing. Seeing her in that kind of pain made him feel sick to his stomach. Even in the arena, she always seemed to shrug off any damage she took. But during that procedure, she had no way of fighting back. It seemed downright barbaric,

She stirred and slowly opened her eyes. Otho straightened up in his seat.

“Where…” Her voice was hoarse. “Where am I?”

“My tent.” He averted his gaze down to his swollen hand. “We can’t let the others see you while you recover. It will give us away.”

Stella grunted as she forced herself to sit up, clutching at the bandages wrapped around her waist.

“What happened to your hand?”

Otho gave a small smile and held his bruised hand up. “You got quite a grip.”

“Oh, right.” She yawned and flopped back down against the ground. “I’m amazing, aren’t I?”

Otho smiled slightly and dropped a bag of assorted prewar junk food on the beside her.

“Here. I don’t really like this kind of food, so you can have it.”

Stella picked up a box of “Fancy Lad Snack Cakes” and examined the label closely.

“Isn’t this stuff banned from the Legion too?”

“They’re only banned if you’re not an officer, so don’t worry about me.” He smirked. “Believe me, there’s no way I’d let myself get crucified for stealing a sweet roll.”

Stella gave a slight laugh and the weight on Otho’s shoulders seemed to temporarily vanish.

“Thanks. For everything.”

Otho stared off into the far corner of his tent, the dull throbbing in his hand preventing his mind from truly wandering.

Stella frowned at him.

“Hey, you feeling al--”

“I’m pulling you out of the fights.” The words escaped him before he could fully comprehend them.

“Wait, what?” Stella gripped her bandages and sat up again. “You can do that?”

“Well no, not...not really. But there has to be something we can do.” His eyes darted around the room. “Like, can you pretend to be pregnant?”

“What?”

“I mean, you’re the first woman who’s ever fought in the arena, but I’m sure you won’t have to fight if they think you’re pregnant.”

“Do you even know how pregnancy works?”

“Maybe we can bundle up some blankets and hide them under your tunic.”

“Otho!”

He froze.

“What?”

Stella rubbed her forehead. “I’m not pretending to be pregnant, okay? I’ll fight in the arena.”

“No, I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

Otho held his face in his hands, trying to ignore her calculating look. She could probably stare down the Monster of the East if she wanted to.

“Get some rest. If you feel any better…” He sighed. “...I’ll see what I can do.”

Stella squirmed uncomfortably against the blankets. “Otho?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to know…” Her voice trailed off as she picked at her bandages. “Why did you do all of this? I mean, this is a bit more than a cup of coffee.”

Otho felt his mouth go dry.

“I…”

“Sir?” A legionary outside his tent cut him off.

Otho signaled for Stella to be quiet before slipping out of his tent. He closed the flap behind him as quickly as he could.

“What’s this about?” He shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun with his non-damaged hand.

“Vulpes Inculta wishes to speak with you, sir.”

Otho felt his blood go cold. Why would the leader of the spies want to talk to him?

“Thank you, I’ll speak with him shortly.”

He hoped that the legionary would leave so he would have time to check on Stella before he left, but it didn’t seem like he was going anywhere. So he took a deep breath and headed towards the frumentarius’ office.

* * *

 

Otho never stepped foot in Vulpes Inculta’s office before and he was grateful he never had to. The leader of the frumentarii was notoriously ruthless, but far from the type of ruthlessness Otho was accustomed to. Vulpes Inculta’s power didn’t come from his physical strength, but rather his intellect and his cunning nature. His methods were rarely predictable or even honorable, but they worked. In short, he was the opposite of everything Otho’s arena stood for.

And the fact that he called for him was not a good sign.

The veteran felt the temperature drop drastically as he stepped into the tent. Vulpes Inculta was seated behind his desk, his fingers steepled and his eyes alert as if he knew exactly when Otho was dropping by.

Otho cleared his throat. “You asked for me, sir?”

Vulpes Inculta gestured to the seat across from him without a word.

As he sat down, his eyes moved nervously around the tent. He wasn’t speaking, no one was. Minutes went by with them both sitting in awkward silence.

“So…” Otho couldn’t meet Vulpes Inculta’s intense stare. “Battle preparations going okay?”

“I don’t believe that is a concern of yours.”

“Yes, right. Sorry.”

More silence. Otho felt like he was suffocating.

“I wasn’t really expecting a meeting with you.” Otho looked down and examined his injured hand “I mean, we work very different jobs.”

“I suppose we do.” He tapped a pale finger against the desk. “You’re in charge of the arena, correct?”

Otho knew that Vulpes Inculta knew the answer, but that wasn't the point of this. The frumentarius was watching his every movement, listening to every tone of his voice, waiting for him to mess up.

This was an interrogation.

“Yes.” Otho nodded. “Yes I am.”

“I see.” He dragged the last syllable out as he eyed Otho. “And how long have you worked for the arena?”

Yes, definitely an interrogation.

“Ten years now, sir.” Otho’s unhurt hand gripped the sides of his chair until his knuckles turned white. These were simple questions, but he could feel his body shivering and his palms sweating already.

“So you’ve been guarding the arena for a long time now.” Vulpes Inculta raised his eyebrows. “Even before the Legion was stationed at Fortification Hill.”

Otho just nodded, unable to get any words out.

“Would you say it’s honorable work, Otho?”

That question threw him off.

Otho finally managed to look up at him.

“What?”

“It’s a simple question.” The frumentarius narrowed his eyes at him. “Would you say you do honorable work?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Uh huh.” He drummed his fingers slowly against the desk. “So, is it honorable work to steal from your employers?”

Otho straightened up in his seat, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Or to smuggle banned items to slaves. Or to oversee illegal medical procedures.” His voice was calm and unwavering, but each word felt like a hot knife to the stomach. “Is this what you would call ‘honorable work’?”

Otho’s hands trembled, his face was pale and he couldn’t think straight.

“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Vulpes Inculta’s tone became more biting. “You’re not very good at it.”

Otho chewed on his lower lip and he didn’t bother to hide how badly he was shaking.

“However, I’ll have you know that it’s clear this wasn’t your fault.” It was unclear whether or not the frumentarius was annoyed or amused by Otho’s nervousness. “Not entirely.”

Otho briefly allowed himself to look up.

“Wait, what?”

Vulpes Inculta’s cold stare reminded Otho of the needles Stella was injected with.

“There’s a reason why you are not a frumentarius.” His voice never broke its usual monotone. “Because a proper frumentarius would know how to avoid being manipulated.”

“Manipulated?”

“It appears you made life quite cozy for that slave, perhaps not of your own accord.” He leaned back against his chair. “The rangers of the NCR are often more cunning than you realize.”

Otho’s body felt cold. No, Stella wouldn’t do that. Would she? He thought back to the night he told her about his tribe. He told her things he never even told his own men. At the time, he thought she genuinely cared--the same way he did. But it seemed more likely that she was just humoring him. How could he have been so stupid?

“I don’t…” Otho muttered as he rubbed his temples. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“If I’m mistaken, do tell me.” Vulpes Inculta’s voice cut in. “Lord Caesar must know exactly what happened so he can punish you accordingly.”

Otho looked up at him, still unable to speak properly.

“You see, if you weren’t emotionally manipulated by the ranger, that means you betrayed the Legion out of your own free will.”

“Sir, I would never dream of…”

“Then tell me how I should explain the situation to Lord Caesar.” His gaze darkened and his voice grew increasingly venomous. “A manipulative prisoner seducing a dim-witted soldier into doing her bidding, or simply a traitor who must be put down?”

Otho’s bruised hand clenched into a fist and his heart began beating faster.


	10. Chapter 10

Stella was halfway through the bag of pre-war snacks and Otho still hadn’t returned. Her anxiety over the situation certainly helped her eat all that junk, but mostly it felt good being able to eat something that the Legion normally wouldn’t let her have. There was just something about 200-year-old crap that made her think of home.

The preservatives holding the snack cake together burned against her tongue. At least Otho’s tent allowed her to have more privacy than she usually got. But it was far from luxury. The interior was hot and stuffy, the sound of the other legionaries training leaked in through the cloth walls, and there was something underneath her blankets that would always jab into her back no matter how many times she adjusted herself. Probably rocks. Otho didn’t use a bed roll, so all she had was some scratchy blankets to protect her against the packed earth. Either way, she definitely slept in worse places.

A sliver of light peeked through the tent entrance and Stella instinctively hid herself and the food under the blankets. When she saw it was just Otho, she let out a sigh of relief and came out.

“Oh good.” She opened up another bag of potato chips. “You’re alive.”

Otho didn’t respond, which wasn’t unusual for him. But there was something about him that just seemed...off. He dragged himself into the tent and sat down near the corner, not even acknowledging her. He looked more distressed than usual, which was quite an accomplishment.

“They’re not…” Stella’s fingers clenched around the bag and she felt her voice get softer. “They’re not executing you, are they?”

Otho shook his head and Stella relaxed a little. She wanted to ask more questions, but she figured she wouldn’t get answers so she returned to her chips.

“I know I already told you this.” Stella popped another chip into her mouth. “But I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I mean, you risked your life saving mine. I know even some NCR soldiers have difficulty doing that for each other.”

“What are you saying?” Otho’s voice quaked.

“I’m saying,” She wiped the crumbs off of her hand against the blanket. “You’re a good guy, Otho. For a legionary. And I’ll continue to fight in the arena. I know it will be tough on me, but you shouldn’t have to get into any more trouble. You’ve done enough.”

Otho’s hands clenched into fists, even the one she bruised.

“I know what you’re doing.” His lowered to a trembling near-whisper. “You can stop it.”

Stella lowered the chip back into the bag.

“What are you talking about?”

He turned towards her, but he kept his face buried in his hands.

“I know your plan.”

He sounded serious, but Stella had no idea what he was talking about.

“Hey, my only plan is to sit here and eat these chips.” She held the bag out to him. “Want one?”

“I don’t want your chips.”

“Are you sure? They don’t taste a day over a hundred years old.”

“You think you can trick me?”

“You’re right.  Make that two-hundred years.”

Otho’s eyes darted up at her and the intensity of his stare made her realize that he wasn’t kidding around. She sighed and set the bag down.

“Look, all I know is that before you were talking about going to extreme measures to pull me out of the arena, then you leave for ten minutes and now you’re mad at me?” She crossed her arms. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“I’m saying that I figured out your plan!” He rubbed his temples. “I figured out your escape plan so you can stop manipulating me now.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What plan?”

“Your plan to get me to fall for you so you can manipulate me into helping you escape! That plan.”

Stella recoiled at his words and nearly dropped the bag. Did she hear that right? Was this a confession? If it was, how was she supposed to respond? It wasn’t like this happened a lot to her. Certainly not under these circumstances.

“I…” She stared at him as she felt her face rapidly heat up and her voice trailed off.

Otho’s face was deep red and he went back to avoiding eye contact.

“That’s what you were doing.” His voice barely broke above a whisper. “Right?”

“No…” The rocks under her blanket felt like they were jabbing into her flesh. “I’m not that subtle.”

“Oh.” Otho twiddled his thumbs together. “Then forget I said anything.”

Stella tugged at her hair.

“Otho…”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No it’s not that, I…” Stella grimaced and squirmed around under the blankets. “What the hell is under these?”

She moved so she could run her hand under the blanket. Otho paled and his eyes widened.

“Wait, don’t--”

Stella’s hand found something and she pulled it out, but it definitely wasn’t what she was expecting.

“A necklace?” She held it up to the light. Didn’t seem like anything she would expect Otho to have. While it wasn’t as fancy as some of the jewelry she saw on the Strip, it was clear that a lot of time and passion was spent on crafting it. The burgundy-colored clay beads gleamed against the light from the lanterns and some of them had little intricate designs that had to be painted on with a brush the size of a needlepoint.

She wanted to get a closer look, but Otho swiped the necklace away.

“Hey, wait--”

Stella stopped when she saw Otho turned his back towards her. His head was bowed, but he was clutching the necklace as if his life depended on it. She hadn’t seen him like this since that night by the river.

“You have lots of information you can use against me now.” His trembling voice almost went unnoticed. “Even if you hate me, I would appreciate it if you didn’t ruin my reputation around here.”

She found herself reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, but she decided against it.

“I don’t hate you, Otho.” She took a deep breath. “I know I should considering who you serve, but you’ve enough to prove to me that you aren’t that bad.”

“I said you can stop doing that.”

“I never tried to manipulate you. Sometimes when I’m with you, I almost forget that I’m a prisoner.” Stella turned away from him, hiding behind her bangs. “I just wish you weren’t a legionary. Then maybe I could let myself like you more.”

She looked up to meet his eyes. He smiled, but it looked pained.

“But I am a legionary. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

She smiled back and brushed a hand over her bandages.

“I didn’t grow up in the Legion, but I know enough about them to know a normal one wouldn’t do this for me.”

The necklace twisted around in Otho’s fidgeting hands.

“So, you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I kind of made a fool out of myself just now.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry.”

“You sure about that?”

Stella laughed, even though it hurt. “Hey, I didn’t have to jump on a bighorner for you. That’s something.”

“Yeah.” He laughed too. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Hey, as long as no one finds out about our little medical adventure, we should be fine.”

Otho’s smile faded and Stella felt like she swallowed a glass of night stalker venom.

“...did someone find out?”

“Vulpes Inculta.” He rubbed the side of his face. “The leader of the frumentarii.”

A chill ran up Stella’s spine. She could tell that he was trying to remain stoic, but the fear in his voice when he spoke was hard to miss.

“So...what’s going to happen?”

“Fortunately Caesar hasn’t been having audiences with his men lately and most of the officers here are too busy focusing on the war effort.” Otho bowed his head. “But I need to prove my loyalty to them.”

“Which means…”

“They will wait until after the battle to decide my fate.” He smiled sadly. “Unless I do something spectacular, it’s probably not going to be good for me.”

“Oh my god.” The nausea Stella was experiencing grew stronger. “They’ll kill you.”

“Please don’t stress out about it.” He sighed. “I’m being punished for my disobedience.”

“Your disobedience was helping me, so I should help you.” She forced herself to sit up straighter. “Maybe I can get you out of here before the battle.”

“And then what?” Otho prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh…”

He held his hand up.

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus on getting better and lying low for now.”

Stella dug her jagged nails into the skin on her forearms. It wasn’t just that Otho was likely going to die on the field, but he was preparing to fight her people. All she could do was sit in a tent behind enemy lines, completely powerless.

“I should be out there.”

She didn’t realize she muttered that under her breath until Otho looked at her.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Forget it.”

Otho sighed and tucked the necklace away in the bottom of his footlocker.

“Get some rest.”

“I’ll try.” She stretched out on the floor. “Why don’t you have a bedroll? My back’s killing me.”

Otho tensed up.

“I just don’t like them.” He continued to fiddle with the front of his footlocker. “They get gross after you use them for a while.”

“Then you clean it.”

“You think I have time for that?”

“Otho, you clean that arena like you’re an Ultra Luxe maid.” She laughed. “But if you’re that against it, it’s fine.”

Otho shook his head. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. I can get one for you.”

“I…” She wanted to argue, but she sighed and sagged her shoulders. “I appreciate it.”

Otho left the tent to return to his post and Stella let her head fall back against the floor. Her bruised hands clenched the rough sheets as hard as they could while she desperately tried to regain her composure.

The battle she was training for, the battle she was transferred to the Mojave for, it was going to happen whether she was there or not. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes started to sting. Part of her resented the idea of having to rely on an enemy soldier for help, but she had to do whatever it took to get out alive.

A ranger doesn’t go down that easily.


	11. Chapter 11

The evening before the battle came faster than Stella expected.

Her injuries were healing up nicely but she was in no state where she could escape, much less fight. She spent the entire day alone in the tent while Otho prepared for battle in the training yard. Occasionally he would stop by to check on her, but mostly she was on her own. If the Legion didn’t kill her, Stella figured she would die of boredom.

Stella woke up from what had to be her fifth nap that day when Otho came back. The brilliant orange lights from the setting sun filled the tent when he pulled back the flap and Stella shielded her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Despite his questioning, his mind was obviously elsewhere. She didn’t blame him.

“Physically, fine.” Stella yawned and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She felt beyond groggy and even though she didn’t have a mirror handy, she knew her hair had to be sticking up in all different directions. “How about you?”

“I’m...okay.” Otho’s hands fidgeted together and he looked away from her. “Hey, do you have a minute? There’s something I wanted to show you. If you can stand, of course.”

Stella almost cried tears of joy at the idea of being able to do anything. Even though she instantly got light-headed and her legs wobbled like a newborn brahmin’s, she eventually got herself to stand.

She followed him out of the tent and through the grounds of the Fort. The other legionaries certainly noticed her, but they seemed too preoccupied on the war effort to say or do anything. The soldiers at the Fort always looked like they were preparing for battle, but to actually see them before a major fight was something else. Stella remembered having long talks or prayers with her fellow rangers to help calm their nerves. She didn’t see any of that going on with the legion. Maybe any socializing was done in private.

Otho lead her to a secluded area near the banks of the river and sat down on a boulder. He motioned for her to sit down next to him and after a moment of hesitation, she did.

“This is as close to the west as I can get you.” He kept his head lowered. “I wish there was more I could do.”

Stella looked towards the sun setting over the horizon and she felt herself choke up. All she wanted to do was swim across that river and go home. She humored the idea of taking Otho with her, showing him what it was like to be a part of “profligate” civilization.

“Thank you.” She hated how small and pathetic her voice sounded. “This means a lot.”

“You made my job easier. Not just because your fights are really short, but it’s easier to stand out there for hours on end when there’s someone next to you.” He glanced over at her for a split second. “Especially when it’s someone like you.”

“Oh.” Stella’s face rapidly began to heat up, she could only hope he didn’t notice. “Well, you made being trapped here a bit easier too.”

“That’s the thing. Even though I value my time with you...” He let out a shaky sigh. “...I wish you were never here. You are one of the most extraordinary fighters I’ve ever seen. I just hate seeing you like this.”

“I know it’s not your fault I’m here.” She brushed her hair out of her face. “But it’s my reality, and I have to live with it now.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. “So as long as you’re still here...you should know that I still stand by what I said before, even though it’s hard for me to admit. But there’s a chance I will never see you again after tomorrow and I don’t want to die without you knowing how much you mean to me.”

Stella felt oddly jittery, like she just drank three cups of extra strong coffee. Her heart was racing, her stomach was doing somersaults

“What are you…” She turned her head in an effort to hide her red face. “What are you trying to say?”

“I…” He laughed nervously. “I don’t really know how this kind of thing works, but I know that you are the most incredible woman I know. I don’t know a lot about the Republic; the Legion teaches us to resent it. But if it can make someone like you, it can’t be all bad.”

Stella had to chew on her lower lip to keep herself from smiling. There was something almost adorable about seeing him getting flustered.

“Wow, um…” She covered her smile with her hand and faced away from him. “That’s really flattering.”

“I just have a question.” He sagged his shoulders and sighed. “If I wasn’t a legionary, if we were just two citizens of the Republic or whatever, do you think I would have a chance?”

She turned to meet his eyes and it struck her how pained and almost vulnerable he looked.

“What does it matter?”

“I know I’ve done a lot of things wrong in my life, and I just want to know if maybe I’m doing something right.”

Stella held his gaze as she tried to imagine him as a citizen of the Republic, or maybe even an NCR soldier. Mentally swapping the Legion armor for an NCR uniform or a suit certainly made things easier.

She smiled at him. “Maybe I’d let you buy me a drink.” He probably would have looked good in one of those sharp prewar suits. “ _If_ you were especially nice.”

He returned her smile. “Thank you. That...that means a lot.”

“I just wish we could have gotten to know each other more.” Stella shrugged. “Without all of this Legion crap.”

“Well, what’s stopping us?” Otho kept his gaze focused on the rolling water of the Colorado River. “I want to know more about you, without having to worry about the war.”

Stella crossed her arms and leaned back against the boulder. “Are you willing to listen?”

“I can try.”

“Okay...” Stella didn’t know where to begin. Her hobbies? Her time in the NCR? No, maybe it was best to start from the very beginning.

“Well, I grew up on a bighorner farm in California, but I guess you already knew that. I lived there with my mom, my dad, and my four brothers.”

“Brothers?” Otho raised his eyebrows. “Did they teach you how to fight?”

“Yes.” She stared into his eyes. “Everything I know about combat was taught to me by a bunch of toddlers.”

Otho nodded and Stella sighed.

“Otho.”

“Yes?”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Oh, of course.” He looked away, clutching at the collar of his uniform. “Please continue.”

“Um, well the farm was nice and all, but I didn’t want to spend my entire life there. So when I was sixteen, I left to join the NCR.” She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t sound noble to become a soldier because you’re bored, but that’s what I did. I’ve never been one of those honorable, ideal soldiers.”

“But you were still good, right?”

“Yeah I was pretty good. The farm helped me develop some muscle before I joined them, but I lacked discipline. That came with time.” She grinned. “Anyway, then I became a ranger, I was transferred to Camp Charlie, and now I’m here.”

Stella shrugged off the rest of her story, but Otho was frowning.

“That’s it?”

“Uh huh.” She yawned and reclined against the riverbed. “Unless there was something else you wanted to know.”

“I don’t know...” Otho’s voice trailed off for a second. “Were your parents okay with you going?”

_Great. A parent question._

A drained, weary sigh tore out of her chest.

“Probably not. Didn’t care. I didn’t have a good relationship with either of them growing up.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I didn’t even see them before I was transferred to the Mojave.”

Her nose was doing that annoying twitching thing it always did before she started crying and her hands clenched into fists in a desperate attempt to keep all of her emotions inside.

“Stella?” Otho scooted closer to her. “Are you okay?”

A single hot tear escaped down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand as she tried to force herself to smile.

“You know, it’s funny. I was originally supposed to be patrolling the Strip, but I was moved to Camp Charlie at the last second. I could have been living it big in Vegas right now.” Another tear, this was going to be a long night. “I could have avoided all of this.”

Otho didn’t say anything. Stella wanted to look over at her, but she found it easier to avoid a complete break-down if she kept perfectly still.

“But then again, if I just stayed on that farm instead of joining the NCR, I could have avoided all of this too.” Her eyes still felt puffy and gross, but at least the tears stopped flowing. “You ever think about that?”

“Huh?” Otho looked over at her and she was finally able to look back. “Think about what?”

“Like, how you ended up in the Legion.”

Otho let out a small laugh that sounded more like a sigh.

“It’s not like I had a choice. The Legion showed up one night, slaughtered my tribe, enslaved my sisters, and made me a soldier.” His face remained unchanged, but his voice trembled the more he spoke. “It’s hard to have regrets when you were completely helpless.”

“Oh.” An avalanche of shame came crashing down on top of her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Otho looked up at the stars and his features seemed to relax. “I just haven’t thought about them like this in so long.”

“I guess…”

Otho moved a bit closer to her, but she didn’t mind.

“Before the battle tomorrow, there’s something I want you to have.”

Stella was just about to question him, but her voice died in her throat when he took one of her hands and placed the necklace in it.

“I want you to have this.” He gently closed her fingers over it. “It was my sister’s and it’s the only remaining piece of culture from my tribe. You should take it.”

Even though the necklace was a thin strand of clay beads on string, it felt like a heavy iron chain when Otho placed it in her hands.

“Otho…” She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t take this from you.”

“You’re not taking it.” Otho didn’t let go of her hands so the necklace was still in her possession. “I’m giving it to you.”

“But why?”

His hands tightened around hers and he bowed his head.

“I want you to remember me for something other than the Legion.”

Stella’s first instinct was to argue back, but the words died in her throat when she looked into Otho’s eyes. It struck her how much this meant to him. She nodded.

“Okay…”

Even though she accepted the necklace, Otho didn’t stop holding her hands. Like the time she held his hand while she was getting her stitches, there was something grounding about it.

“I remember when I first fought for the Legion as a child.” Otho brushed his thumb over Stella’s bruised knuckles and a shiver ran up her spine. “I had dreams about somehow finding a way to free my sisters. My loyalty was always for the Legion, but I always knew that they weren’t like the other degenerates Caesar told us about. But I lost my chance to save them. I’m not going to lose that chance with you.”

“What?” Stella’s stomach continued to twist into tighter and tighter knots. This had to be an empty promise. It was not the first time he said something like this.

“Tomorrow’s my last chance to help you escape before the battle. I can’t promise it will be easy, but I want to help. You’re not like the other profligates.”

Stella sighed and let her hands slide out of his.

“I’m no better than any other non-legionary, Otho.”

“That’s not what I meant, I--”

“I know.” She sat up straighter and hugged her knees close to her chest. “But there’s a lot you still don’t know about me.”

The silence that followed was eating away at her. Everything she wanted to say was dying before she had a chance to speak. Otho wasn’t saying anything, so she decided to take the leap.

“Otho?”

“Yes?”

Stella took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

“I let the Legion capture me.”

“What?!” Otho’s response was more biting than the silence before. “Why would you do that?”

“Because…” Stella groaned and rubbed her face. “Back in California, the Legion was always a faceless enemy the Republic was fighting against. But then I was transferred to Ranger Station Charlie.”

Stella had to pause to take a shaky breath as she mentally berated herself for opening this can of worms.

“There was an older ranger at the station. He was nice, but he retired shortly after I joined--because a Legion child soldier blew up his legs.” She grabbed fistfulls of her hair and started pulling. It was the only thing keeping her from breaking out into tears. “That’s when I realized what the Legion was. Actually using children for things like that, it made me sick. I realized that the Legion couldn’t be taken out on a battlefield. The Legion had to be destroyed. From the inside. When Camp Charlie was invaded, I could have fought to the death like a noble soldier. But instead I gave myself up. Because I was stupid enough to think I could make a difference.”

She waited for Otho to respond. When he didn’t, she forced herself to look up at him. He was sitting as still as a statue, staring out over the slowly rolling water with a dazed look in his eye.

“You’re not stupid, Stella.” He finally spoke up, but his voice sounded hoarse as if he was previously screaming. “You said before that you were never a noble soldier, but I don’t believe you. Even if I don’t agree with your beliefs, you sacrificed yourself for something you thought was right. That sounds noble to me.”

“I guess.” Stella hoped that the rapidly dimming light from the setting sun would mask her smile. “But I don’t know what I expected to happen after I got here. At least I got to kill a lot of legionaries, right?”

Stella laughed, but Otho didn’t. She didn’t expect him to.

“Did you at least come to view the Legion differently?”

“No.” Stella sagged her shoulders. “My opinion of the Legion never changed. But my opinion of you did.”

“Really?” Otho looked back at her, but is was harder for them to see each other’s faces in the dark. “In a good way?”

She nodded. “I still have a hard time separating you from the Legion, but you sacrificed a lot for me.”

Otho gave a small smile. “You’re worth sacrificing a lot for.”

Stella rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile back.

He reached out touched the side of her face. His hand was gentle, but she still jumped at the contact.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She placed her hand over his. “I’m fine.”

Otho moved in closer and everything else around her seemed to fade away into blackness. There was nothing she had to think about other than her hand on his, his forehead pressed against hers. She didn’t have to think about her home, the Legion, the war…

The war.

Before Otho could make the first move, she turned away from him.

“I’m sorry.” She stood up, frantically brushing the dust off of her rags. “I still don’t know how I feel about this.”

Otho stood up, unable to even look at her. “No, this was my fault. I should have been focusing on the battle tomorrow.”

Stella kept her eyes fixed on the river, hoping that the languid movement of the water would help relax her. But the reminder of the battle continued to weigh heavy over her consciousness.

“Otho?”

“Stella, I’m sorry. Let’s just--”

“No, it’s not about that.” She tugged at her collar. “I just had a question. A few months ago, you told me that you say this tribal prayer when you bury the fighters’ bodies.”

“What about it.”

“It’s just…” She looked back at the river. “Can you teach me that prayer?”

Otho frowned. “Why?”

“You know, just in case.” Stella rubbed the back of her neck. “In case I need something to say.”

Otho stared up at the stars for a long time before sighing.

“All right. I can teach it to you.”

Stella sat back on the ground next to him. As Otho explained the details of the prayer to her, he seemed to become progressively calmer and more at ease.

But the necklace in her hand felt like it was getting heavier.


	12. Chapter 12

Legionaries do not fear war. Legionaries always look forward to a battle. Every day is a good day to die for a legionary.

But Otho was not prepared to march on the dam again.

Otho was sweating under his balaclava and helmet, but he still felt like he was freezing. The younger legionaries were more than ready to cross the river. Otho still remembered the Legion’s first defeat clear as day. It was more than enough to lower his spirits.

He didn’t sleep at all the night before. Stella was still recovering so she had to share his tent. Sleeping with other people around always seemed to spike his anxiety for whatever reason. As he stared up into the endless darkness of his tent, all of Stella’s words rang loud in his ears. They were keeping him awake, but they were also keeping him calm as well. His chest ached as he desperately wished for just one more night like that. A night of being able to talk to someone, and being able to listen to them. He imagined a scenario where they were just two profligates living their lives with no war or conflicting morales to tear them apart. He could have let himself fall for her without guilt. He would have told her how he felt. Probably. Maybe. Who knows.

One thing he did know, these were not the thoughts of a man preparing for battle.

Otho paced around the bank of the river while he waited for the sun to rise. The Fort was quiet, but tense. It felt like any moment, the atmosphere of the encampment was going to snap. He would be leaving at dawn with a small squad of other veterans. This was his last chance to prove himself to the Legion, but it seemed far more likely that he would die on the battlefield or die by execution. He was going to pass out.

Dawn broke over the horizon and the Fort exploded into a frenzy. Soldiers marched towards the docks, attack dogs barked, machetes were sharpened, war-drums beat, and Otho ran back to his tent.

Stella threw herself under the blanket in a panic when Otho opened the tent flap, but she relaxed when she saw it was just him.

“You gotta warn me, okay?” She let the blanket fall off around her shoulders.

Otho didn’t know what to say. Not as a response, but in general. He didn’t know why he came back. Probably to give himself one last chance to look at her.

“Why are you even here?” Stella crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t you be out killing my friends or something?”

Otho felt his mouth go dry. “I…”

Stella stood up and he fell silent.

“Maybe it would be best if you just left.” She looked away from him. “I missed my chance to fight in this battle. I want to be alone before the Legion figures out what to do with me.”

Otho should have left. As a proper legionary, he should have turned around and joined his fellow men at the docks. Instead…

“I’m still helping you escape.”

The words tumbled out before he had a chance to think about them. Stella stared up at him with wide eyes.

“What? How?”

Otho knelt down in front of his footlocker.

“You need to kill a legionary and steal his armor. The Fort is so hectic today that you should be able to blend in with the crowd.” Otho looked over his shoulder before lowering his voice to a near whisper. “After I leave, a legionary will come in here to take you back to the Legion capital. You can’t let him do that.”

He reached into his locker and handed her a small knife, barely longer than her index finger.

“Take this.” The fact that he didn’t feel any sense of guilt when he instructed her to murder one of his fellow soldiers made him even more disgusted with himself. But it was still the right choice.

Stella examined the knife critically. “You know I don’t need a knife to kill someone.”

“I know.” He closed the locker and stood back up. “But this is about being subtle.”

Stella continued to stare at the knife before looking back up at Otho. He was still unable to take his eyes off of her.

“Thanks.” She tucked the knife away under her belt. “For everything.”

She was standing so close to him. Otho swore his knees were going to give out.

“I just wish I could have done more for you.”

“I don’t know what else I could ask for.”

Otho pushed his balaclava off of his face and smiled.

“I’m sorry I still have to go out there.”

Stella shushed him. “Just give me one minute where I don’t have to think about the war, okay?”

So many thoughts were racing through Otho’s mind. _I want to help you. I want to leave with you. I’m going to miss you._ But all of those thoughts were related to the war, and neither of them wanted to think about that. It was more relaxing just to stand with her, sharing company without sharing words.

Otho reached out and placed his hand on her upper arm causing her to look up at him in surprise. Losing himself in her hazel eyes almost made the battle outside seem obsolete. He slipped his helmet off of his head as she moved in closer to him.

There was no space between them anymore. Any thoughts he might have had were drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding away in his chest. His hands trembled as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

Stella reciprocated the hug and let her head fall against the front of his armor. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Having her this close to him didn’t feel real. But he knew why she was doing this. So he waited.

And waited.

Until five minutes passed and she was still in his arms. Otho pulled away and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw her deep hazel eyes staring back at him.

“I gave you an opening.” His voice was soft, as if it has been years since he last spoke.

“Yeah.” She glanced down at the knife for a moment before smiling up at him. “I guess you did.”

Otho found himself smiling back. “You still got time.”

“No.” Stella shook her head. “I don’t. And neither do you.”

Otho sighed. She was right, like always. The battle outside was calling to him and he felt disgusted with his overwhelming urge to run in the opposite direction--towards Stella. His body was moving on its own as he found himself walking back to the entrance of the tent.

A proper legionary would have left that tent to go fulfill his duty as a soldier, but he couldn’t help himself. He looked over his shoulder at Stella. This would be the last time he would see her. The thought formed a lump in his throat. He couldn’t imagine not seeing her. Not being able to admire that beautiful smirk of hers. Not being able to roll his eyes at her teasing. Not being able to let himself become utterly enraptured by her.

“Stella?” He didn’t remember calling her name, but she responded just the same.

“Yes?”

So many thoughts were roaring in his mind. Months-worth of things he wanted to say to her all pushing to get out. But he didn’t have the time to tell her everything, so instead he settled on the one that felt the most important.

“Please be careful.”

Stella twirled the knife around between her fingers and smirked.

“If I knew how to be careful, I wouldn’t be here.”

Otho smiled. Any other response wouldn’t have felt right.


End file.
